Magicking Alec Lightwood
by iluvzuzu
Summary: In City of Bones, when Jace and Clary are elsewhere, Alec Lightwood is dying at the New York Institute after being attacked by a Greater Demon, remember? Here's Magnus's side of the story. Oneshot. Alec/Magnus


**A/N: So, this takes place at the end of City of Bones, if anyone remembers. You know, when Jace and Clary are off fighting Valentine, my poor baby Alec is at the Institute, dying of demon-poison-exposure. Magnus, as later stated in said book, "magicked Alec back to health." (City of Bones, page 476) So, I remembered that, and I was like OMG yay. And so then I wrote it. Here. Enjoy.**

_Warlock Bane:_

_I understand that you do not appreciate being bothered, and even less do you appreciate being bothered to come heal a Shadowhunter. However, one would hope that you had enough human in you to save a life when you are most likely capable. One of our young Shadowhunters, Alexander Lightwood, was gravely injured today by a Greater Demon. I am sure it is within your power to at least __try__ to help him. He is being held at the New York Institute's infirmary if you would come. _

_Sincerely,_

_Hodge Starkweather_

Magnus let out a growl and crumpled the paper up, flinging it across the room. Its increased aerodynamics due to its newly spherical shape forced it to hit the wall opposite the seething warlock. He groaned in exasperation. _Stupid Shadowhunter. _He was _supposed _to be able to forget about him. After all, he'd only really seen the kid, what? Once?

But Magnus thought back to that night at the party crashed by Nephilim. The blond boy had been charming, Clary possessed a sweet, I'm-Dorothy-of-Kansas kind of prettiness that she always had, the dark-haired girl had _legs, _and the mundane… well, Magnus had _always _had a thing for glasses. But the last one, the boy with the near-black hair and those eyes that shone like icy cerulean stones, had been the one to catch his attention.

It wasn't as though Magnus didn't do this often; in fact, he flirted with people of all genders, all ages—he'd never been picky— by winking, touching, asking them to call him, pretty much daily. Maybe they'd call. Maybe they wouldn't. But Magnus never cared. He rarely remembered who they'd been in the first place. But with that Shadowhunter boy, the one that _must _be called Alexander Lightwood, it hadn't been the case. No, the boy hadn't called. But Magnus _remembered _him. Well. Those eyes were hard to forget.

Letting out another infuriated growl, he stomped in his drama-queen-like fashion to the coat closet, angrily snatched his favorite dyed-purple leather trench coat, threw on a pair of orange boots and fixed his hair in the hall mirror before stomping his way downstairs and out the door of his posh New York apartment building.

Once he reached the Institute, the leggy girl was there to let him in. "Warlock Bane," she said, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"There's a dying kid, isn't there?" Magnus pushed past her into the Institute. "Now. The Infirmary is…?"

Isabelle blinked. "What? Oh. This way." She led him halfway down a particular corridor before turning to look at him over her shoulder. "I like your boots."

Magnus merely grunted in thanks.

Once they reached the room, Isabelle asked, "How did you know to come?"

"Does it matter?" Magnus replied. "I'm here, aren't I? Do you want my help or not?"

"No, no, of course," Isabelle sounded grateful, though perhaps a little closer to tears than she'd sounded previously. "I just—I just want my brother to be okay." Her voice broke on the last word. "I d-don't know what we'd do without Alec."

"How touching," Magnus said. "Now. OUT. I have business to do."

Isabelle left the room quickly, a half-frightened, half-impressed expression on her face.

Magnus surveyed the boy in the hospital bed. That was him, all right. Even with his beautiful bottle-blue eyes shut, he was easily recognizable. His demeanor didn't change much when he was unconscious; he was still calm, soft, and beautiful in an I'm-not-trying-to-be way. But the dark shadows under Alec's eyes bothered Magnus, as did the bruises and cuts that stretched up and down the boy's whole body. It was as though the young Shadowhunter had jumped through a closed glass window and landed three stories down. He looked… broken.

Magnus set his jaw. He was not broken. He would be fixed. Magnus was determined on _that _particular point. He closed his eyes and let the magic come. It flowed through his veins, to his fingertips. He pressed his hands against the boy's bare chest, trying with all his might to heal the wounds that were there. The room was alight with shining colors, all emanating from the warlock. He worked on every gash along the Shadowhunter, a worried expression coming over his face. On his way over here, the thought that he wouldn't be able to fix Alec had never occurred to him. Now, that was the only thing he could think about.

What if he wasn't able to heal Alec? What if the Shadowhunter died under Magnus's hand? Magnus wasn't sure if he could bear it. It wasn't that he cared so much about the boy—it was the disappointment he would see in everyone else's eyes that truly would get to him. He'd spent his whole life trying to prove to people that he wasn't bad—maybe he came off as a party boy, apathetic and sneering as any other. But he remembered a time when he hated himself because of what he was. So he'd tried to prove that he was just as human as anyone else.

If he let Alec die, he would not be looked upon as a brave doctor who had done everything in his power and failed anyway. They would look at him like it was his fault. Like if he'd tried harder, Alec would still be alive.

So, for purely selfish reasons, Magnus pushed himself harder. He had to. He pushed all of his magic into the boy, siphoning out the demon poison and giving the Shadowhunter energy. There was so much internal damage—had he walked into a _wall _or something? But Magnus tried harder.

And then another thought occurred to him. If Alec died, Magnus would absolutely never be able to forget about him. Those blue eyes would haunt him forever. As a sign of his failure. A sign of his inhumanity.

Then, suddenly, he realized it had worked. The boy's pale face regained color, a few shallow cuts fading to scars. The claw marks that wreaked his white chest had lessened to small lines just beginning to heal. His leg was still partly sprained, but Magnus was sure it would heal in a few days by itself. The internal damage seemed to be repaired, and Magnus was positive he'd drained all or most of the demon poison from the boy's system. He would be fine.

"Magnus?" Isabelle said tentatively from the other side of the door. "Are you finished? The sparks stopped, so I thought…"

"Yes," Magnus said gruffly, settling himself in a chair at Alec's bedside. "Come in."

Isabelle entered, looking fearful. "Is Alec going to be okay?"

"I think so. He just needs to rest."

"I'll stay, if you want to g—"

"No!" Magnus said sharply. Isabelle looked at him, startled. He coughed. "I mean, no. I'd like to stay until he wakes, just to be sure everything is in order."

Isabelle smiled knowingly. "That's fine, too. Would you like some water?"

"Water," Magnus said, a little smile coming to his lips, "would be brilliant."

When Isabelle returned with a glass, she handed it to Magnus, who took it with a grateful nod and began to drink. "You look tired," Isabelle observed.

"Yes, well," Magnus said airily, "magic, you know. It takes a lot out of a person." He frowned. "So does staying up all night to look after your sick brother. You should get some sleep."

"I don't need sleep," Isabelle protested.

"I promise I'll let you know the moment he wakes up," Magnus said. "Go. You could use some rest, I think. All of you little Shadowhunters have had _quite _a long day, it seems. Speaking of the little Shadowhunters," Magnus said, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Where's Dorothy and the Scarecrow?"

Isabelle gave a nervous giggle. "I… am _not _sure. At _all._"

"Hmm."

"Alec will _flip _out if he wakes up and Jace is missing," Isabelle said worriedly. "I don't want to worry him like that. Jace is _really _important to Alec—I-I mean, like, a brother, not like—anyway. But I mean, he's already so hurt and I don't want him to wake up and find Jace gone, and I just—"

Magnus gave her a patronizing smile. "Would you like me to find out where he is?"

Isabelle looked at him blankly. "You don't have to—"

"I'll make some calls."

"Thank you," Isabelle said graciously.

Magnus had connections. He was, after all, the High Warlock of Brooklyn. When he got off the phone at around five or six in the morning, he had a story to tell the dark haired girl asleep in the chair beside him. He shook her awake, saying softly, "It seems your friends had a little run-in with Valentine."

Isabelle gasped. "What? With _Valentine?_ Are they okay? What _happened?"_

"I'm not entirely sure. A pack of the Moon's Children were present—Luke Garroway's pack, in fact. He's something, isn't he? Not too good looking, but he's got style. Well, not style as in _clothes, _but you know what I mean. He's good at what he does. Anyway. Last any of _my _crowd's heard, they were up at Roosevelt Island—used to be Blackwell's, I think. Well, I hear Clary was there, anyway. And she's always had this thing about him, you know. Anyway. So it's hard to tell what's going on, but from what I understand they're both still alive."

Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, Magnus."

"No problem."

"Hey, are you hungry?"

"No, not particularly," he replied, flashing a wide grin. "Although, how _is _my hair looking? It must have wilted a little, yes?"

"It looks fine to me," Isabelle said with a cute little smirk. "Well, anyway, I'm hungry. I'll be back. Let me know if Alec wakes up, okay?"

"Of course."

She loped gracefully out into the hall and Magnus leaned back in his chair, waiting. Time passed. At maybe seven in the morning, Alec stirred. Magnus leaned forward. "Alec?" he asked softly.

"Mmm," Alec murmured, his brow furrowing.

"Alec, are you awake?"

"Mmyeah," the boy whispered. And then, suddenly, his beautiful blue eyes fluttered open. "Magnus Bane," he stated, after taking in the warlock's appearance.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," Magnus said cheekily.

Alec shut his eyes and gave a small smile. "What're you doing here? What happened?"

"You got mauled by a Greater Demon, Shadowhunter," Magnus said. "I healed you up. Well. To the best of my ability. I assume we'll be getting someone else in for bandages. Your darling sister might be good at that. Or the blond one. But I can't say I'm too keen on having him in a sickroom. I mean, my _god, _what _would _we do if he were to be allowed near dangerous chemicals and equipment? I know he thinks he knows everything, but…" Magnus trailed off. "How are you feeling?"

Alec opened his eyes again to stare at Magnus. "'M okay, I think. You…" he propped himself on his elbows, the better to meet Magnus's green-gold eyes. "You healed me?"

"Lie back down," Magnus said gently, pressing his hand lightly to Alec's shoulder so as to force him back onto the bed. "Yes, I healed you."

"Why?"

Magnus looked at him curiously. "Goodness, Shadowhunter, where's the gratitude?"

Alec, even in such a frail state, had the courtesy to blush. "I meant… thank you. But… why'd you do it?"

Magnus shrugged. "Maybe I wanted to prove I could. Maybe my cable box was broken. Or maybe," he said slyly, giving a glittery wink, "I just think you're cute."

Alec gave a choking little laugh. "Well, thank you. Again."

"It was no problem."

"You told me to call you," Alec remembered.

"I tell a lot of people to call me."

"I bet they all did."

Magnus shrugged. "Some do. Some don't. You didn't."

"I thought about it."

"You lose my number?"

"Something like that."

"Well," said Magnus, pulling out a pen and grasping Alec's uninjured forearm lightly in his left hand. "You won't lose it this time." He scribbled a phone number onto the boy's pale skin.

Alec gave him a tiny grin. "No. I guess I won't."

Isabelle reentered. "Alec!" she shrieked. "You're okay!" she hugged her brother softly, being careful not to hurt him. Then she rounded on Magnus, ruffling his hair with unnecessary force. "Magnus! You said you'd call me in when he woke up!"

"WHY the HAIR, woman?" Magnus cried, hurriedly fixing it.

"What _is _all the commotion? _I _was under the impression that hospitals were somber places."

"Jace Wayland," Magnus said, standing. "Well, that is my cue to leave. Good day to you, Miss Isabelle. Alec." He gave the blond boy in the doorway a look up-and-down. "Blondie."

"Jace," Alec murmured.

"Alec, you're okay," Jace said as Magnus left the room. "Not that I was worried," he added hastily. "Well, maybe a little, but…"

Magnus rolled his eyes and continued out of earshot. _Move over, kid,_ he thought. _You may be the Scarecrow, but we'll just __see__ who's the fucking Wizard of Oz. If you only had a brain sounds about right._

Magnus smiled to himself. Something felt right about this. Very right. Yes, the Shadowhunter was in there right now, but so was Magnus's phone number. Magnus mentally patted himself on the back. He deserved a medal or something. He chuckled. Or maybe just a vanilla latte. Either way, it was turning out to be a very good day after all.


End file.
